


The Art of War

by CalicoColors



Series: Good Intentions [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Tag As I Go, Unsuccessful Wooing, enemies to friends to idiots to lovers, theyre trying to figure things out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29057190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoColors/pseuds/CalicoColors
Summary: In return for the help Tobirama had offered during the rescue mission gone wrong, Madara decides to stick his hand out in kind. As part of the ‘paranoid bastards’ club, however, Tobirama can only see every move the Uchiha makes as an act of aggression that he just can’t seem to figure out the meaning behind.The kids don’t seem to mind one way or the other, as long as they get to see their clan head and favorite sensei working together.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Good Intentions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135034
Comments: 50
Kudos: 261





	1. The Peace Accords

“Tobi! Tobi, look!”

“Don’t call me that,” Tobirama argues—pointlessly, because his brother never listens when he asks him to stop with the ridiculous nicknames. Still, he turns from his notes. Whatever has Hashirama in a fit has to be faced immediately, he has learned through experience.

A letter is shoved in his face. As expected, it’s already covered in snot. “Look! _Look!_ Tell me it’s real! Read it to me so I know I’m not just imagining it!”

“Maybe if you let me move back to read it, brother—” he peels the paper away from his face, and. Hm.

He checks it twice. Three times.

“An…overture of peace?”

Hashirama dances with barely constrained energy. “Yes, yes, _yes!_ I knew I wasn’t misreading it! He really is asking for peace! Oh, this is so wonderful!”

Too busy inspecting, Tobirama hardly glances up, searching for something that isn’t there.

There’s no earthly way Madara Uchiha has sent a letter requesting _peace talks._

It’s elegantly written. It’s nicely composed. It’s impressively professional. Not in any way uncouth or brash or passive aggressive like he knows the man can be.

It’s incredibly _suspicious._

Tobirama lets the paper fall, letting his brother ramble nonsense as his thoughts trail away.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with unexpected complications. As promised, Tobirama mentioned nothing of what had occurred during it, only the bare essentials. Normally he tries to be as detailed as possible in his reports but in this case, he feels discretion is necessary.

Obviously Madara has the discretion of a rampaging bull. To go so far as to send a request for peace is the opposite of discrete. For spirits sake, they had just skirmished at the river not even three days ago!

(Granted, that battle was one of their weakest ones yet. Izuna wouldn’t stop glaring at him. The rest of the clan looked resigned and half-hearted as they fought. Madara had spent the whole battle showing off fire tricks—because it was most definitely _showing off_ and _tricks_ during one of the hottest days in recent memory wasting chakra on a functionally useless firework-explosion during a simple border skirmish. There were more insults than injuries being tossed around.

It all flew over Hashirama’s head, of course, but Tobirama was not blind to the glances. Truly infuriating. And frustrating, that Madara was wasting time with piddly intimidation tactics.

He was _clearly_ the only one with common sense around here.)

“—and we need to make sure we wear our best, I’m sure our old formal outfits should fit the occasion. Should I bring a dessert of some kind? A pie, is that fitting—Tobi, are you listening?”

Tobirama snaps out of his thoughts. “Yes,” he lies.

“Aha, you’re overwhelmed too, aren’t you?” Hashirama smiles in that special way he does that makes Tobirama want to smile back even though his brain is working overtime to figure out the _why_ of this particular issue.

“That is…an understatement.”

“Luckily Madara did all the thinking for us. He set a time, a place, oh, look, even an itinerary, how cute!”

‘Cute’ would not describe this confounding conundrum, nor the way it’s making his brain try to rewire itself into a world where things made sense. This is all so sudden—but _why?_ There has to be a reason. There always is.

His brother continues to ramble. “—I didn’t get the end part though,” Hashirama pouts. “What does Madara mean by ‘as sure as lightning strikes tall trees, as honest as a moonlit night…’ and the part about ending ‘it’ where blood was spilled and lives were saved? He sure has an interesting way of wording things!”

Tobirama falls back into his chair, pressing fingers to his temple.

“I don’t know, brother,” he monotones. “It’s just a metaphor.”

He most definitely knows, and hates it.

Good experiments always require field research, he supposes.

* * *

“You actually came,” Madara comments, leaning on the tree he almost died at.

The moon is high in the sky and the trees are as scraggly as all the other times Tobriama passed through this area. Amazing how quick the journey was without deadweight needing to be escorted. At least the children could keep up and were kept out of injury, unlike the adult.

“You’re actually looking in good health,” Tobirama mentions in return. “Enough to cause problems again, I see.”

Madara smirks. “As are you. You liked my letter then? I tried to take a page out of your book. Full of flowery, wordy nonsense, just how you like it.”

“Is your goal aggravation or do you have a purpose, Uchiha?” Tobirama bites.

“Aw, back to ‘Uchiha’ so soon. I thought we had something, Tobirama.” Madara continues lounging without a care in the world.

Tobirama keeps his sensing as active as ever. No presences within a hundred meters. No traps. No tags or summons or moles. Just Madara. Not even his trademark gunbai on hand.

It sets Tobirama even worse on edge than if there was something obvious to see. He knows his seals are probably brighter than ever, thick with color, the way they are when he stretches his chakra too far.

Noticing this, Madara taps at his own cheek. “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you already checked so many times that even you’re satisfied that this is just a friendly meeting between…acquaintances, let’s say.”

Tobirama narrows his eyes. “Oh, are you one to talk?”

“Right, yes, paranoid bastards,” Madara waves off.

There’s nothing in his expression to give his true intentions away. All Tobirama can do, now, is what he does best: gather information, establish a theory, then plan his next move.

He won’t waste time by stating the obvious; they both know why they’re here. “Explain.”

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to connect the dots I’ve laid out for you,” Madara cryptically replies. “I want peace.”

“You say that. Why?”

“Well, our little talk was a bit more inspiring than I expected. I gave it some thought and decided to act on it.”

Two weeks is not what Tobirama considers “some thought.” That’s a whimsy for such a massive decision.

Uchiha’s. So impulsive. Too passionate and bold for their own good. Tobirama would almost admire the sheer bravery of it all except for the fact it’s giving him an unimaginable migraine.

At his sour expression, Madara only seems to grow more delighted. “Figured you would have the most trouble swallowing that down, considering we’re one in the same, so I thought I’d be nice by discussing this in person.”

Tobirama crosses his arms. “If you’re trying to get back at me through my brother, you would be making your deadliest mistake yet.”

Now he’s treated to the sight of some slight flailing on Madara’s end, a breaking of tension. “As if! What would I even do in that situation? ‘Hashirama, here’s the peace you want, now let me stab you.’ I may be underhanded on occasion but I’m not a damn sycophant!”

Tobirama can think of a hundred ways to completely destabilize a political hearing, some from his own experience, but Madara obviously hasn’t thought that far with how strangely honest his movements are.

From what Tobirama has seen and studied, Madara seems one of those rare shinobi types that values honor in some small degree and finds the heat of battle to be a worthy place to practice it. Blatant tricks and deceit were not his forte.

“Hm. You’re right. You’re far too scatterbrained to be cunning.”

“Hey! I’m cunning! I can be _so_ cunning!”

“Crafty, maybe. Clever, occasionally. Cunning? Doubtful.”

Madara looks to be gearing up to argue but at Tobirama’s raised eyebrow he backs down slightly, realizing only arguing the point undermines his own. It pleases Tobirama to see how he can get under Madara’s skin as much as he does him.

With an aggravated sigh, the Uchiha presses off the tree to stand a few paces from him. Tobirama’s seals remain at large but none of the other’s movements indicate hostility so he allows the action.

“As you can see, I’m here, I’m unarmed, and I’m standing by my words,” Madara emphasizes. “I’m here to make you believe them, too.”

“Again, I ask: why?”

“Well, turns out nearly dying takes a lot out of you. Like I said, I learned a lot from those few hours.”

“I thought,” Tobirama nearly growls. “That we were to forget what had happened then?”

Madara smirks, a flicker of red passing over his eyes. Not as a threat, just a mention. “I seem to have a problem with forgetting things. My apologies.”

Cagey annoyance. “And because of that, you decide this is the right time. Not when it was offered by my brother. On your whim.”

“I do like being able to control the battlefield,” Madara brags smugly. “But I will say it wasn’t possible up until now. I refuse to explain further.” There’s that smirk again, looking pleased as a punch about his little joke.

Tobirama truly doesn’t appreciate the way his own words are being thrown back in his face. He lets his range extenders relax, just a tad.

“…Let’s say I believe you. What then?”

“Then, we make a future from that. A better world, perhaps?”

All Tobirama can do is glare. What jutsu is this? What trickery is hidden up his sleeve?

The fact that the white-haired man is still here and not burying a dagger into Madara’s thigh is already a sign he’s willing to listen. By staying, an indirect admission of acceptance.

Noticing this, Madara nods and begins to saunter away.

“Excellent. I expect you at peace talks, then!”

Tobirama…lets him go, yet doesn’t respond. Madara can have the last say now. Next time will be his, and it will be _devastating._

A few paces away, Madara pauses, then digs into his bag, making him tense.

“Ah, almost forgot the other reason,” Madara explains. He offers out—a white fur mantle, the exact one that he had given away to a child cold with shock. Tobirama’s fingers twitch.

“I nearly had to pry this away from Takeo with a crowbar. You should be grateful.”

“He could have kept it,” Tobirama murmurs, though he is more comforted than he has felt in the past twenty-four hours just by holding the familiar garment.

Madara shrugs. “If you want to give it back and undermine all my efforts, I suppose you’ll have to do it in person. They miss you greatly.”

“You shouldn’t lie to them. I won’t be seeing them again.” As much as Tobirama wants to, as much as he feels wanted to be a teacher to those four kids if only for a brief time, he cannot see them again. That is the bane of their blood feud.

“That’s not what Kagami says,” Madara nearly sing-songs. “Ah, the moon’s going down. If I want to avoid Izuna’s lecture I should head back now.”

Before leaving, he turns back once more. It’s like he is seeing Madara for the first time, somehow. The moonlight behind him softens his edges, his willful fire a warm crackle instead of an inferno. In the safety of midnight, they are transformed. They are only human and only men.

These thoughts, these feelings, these changes—strange, alien, bizarre. It’s unnerving. It’s not appreciated. In this moment, he is…

“Thank you, Tobirama.”

Madara vanishes with a chakra boosted run and Tobirama is left behind pondering what, exactly, that thank you was towards.

Five minutes after Madara left—counted to the second—and after ensuring no suspicious stragglers remain behind, Tobirama sticks his head in his coat and lets his frustrations out for only him to witness.

Luckily, his fur is used to his screams.

Aggravating annoying moronic _Uchiha!_


	2. The Runaway Trouble

The peace talks are…strange, to put it mildly.

If you asked Hashirama, he’d probably exclaim how well they’re going and burst into happy tears. If you asked older clan members from either side, they’d probably sneer and mock. If you asked Mito, she’d probably just smile, as if the tension-thick room was hardly a deterrent.

And if you asked Madara, you couldn’t, because even after seven of these damned meetings Tobirama doesn’t seem any closer to figuring him out.

He can handle village plans. Complicated infrastructure. Political disagreements. He can even tolerate Madara’s honesty.

But there’s _other instances_ that do not line up.

The meetings are productive. They’ve established location, planned move, and temporary arrangements, to determine if they are even able to stand each other for more than five minutes without rancor.

It’s mostly the clan heads doing the talking with the occasional advisor, but others do try to get a say or are pressed into it. Such as Tobirama, who tries to only speak when spoken to as a general rule or if he simply must say something. He is second only to his brother, after all, and sits at the head of the table with them.

This is not to say the meetings have not been without incident. Each side makes outlandish demands in hopes of either fulfilling them or breaking the tentative peace. As if banning weapons or asking for a larger cut of land in a treaty where they are supposed to be equals would ever be agreed upon by the other side.

The Uchiha have been particularly insistent in pressing him, likely a remnant of their feud. Some Uchiha, notably Izuna, do it quite obviously as a dig to get Tobirama’s attention or anger.

Madara presses, too, but his questions, inexplicably, seem more from curiosity and not taunting.

He keeps doing strange things such as that. Asking for Tobirama’s opinion, specifically, with a _genuine_ tone.

It’s after one of these meetings, fraught with earnest prolonged eye contact, that Tobirama has to use an excuse to take a breather. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t react. His expression remains calm. He just. Needs to not be there, around _him,_ acting like that.

It’s infuriating. It’s confusing. Tobirama doesn’t know what to think about any of it.

Outside, he stands away from the crowd, hidden between plats and beams. It’s most certainly not hiding. He’s only people-watching for a brief moment, to calm down before having to go back and deal with all the little annoyances.

Their temporary camp is steadily growing as the accords continue. So far, in-fighting has been minimal, and neither side is being overly crass to each other. They’re not going out of their way to be friendly either, though.

A mix of Uchiha and Senju, walking on the same land together. Who would have thought he’d see the day? Certainly not him.

“Psst!” a voice suddenly whispers behind him, and if Tobirama was a lesser shinobi he may have reacted. As it were, he swiftly turns and holds a hand in his weapons pouch.

Damn it, he hates when he’s not infusing chakra. When did he relax so much in such short time?

Instead of finding some poor excuse of an invader, though, he only has to look down to see a small figure with curly black hair smiling up at him.

“Tobi-sensei, I found you! Did I sneak up on you?”

“Kagami?” Tobirama asks tentatively, and the boy nods wildly.

Tobirama hasn’t seen many children when the camp was being built. Both sides protecting their weakest, of course. He never tried to seek them out, even if he did want to see if those Uchiha kids were alright. Chakra sensing told him enough the one time he tried it and that was plenty, though seeing the proof with his own eyes would have been even better.

It’s pointless to consider such wishful thinking. Just because they’re building a treaty doesn’t mean the Uchiha’s would react favorably to the demon of the Senju skulking around their children, no matter the slight bond he had built with them on the mission-that-shall-not-be-named.

Silly of him. He shouldn’t have underestimated the easy-going nature of a child, and their sheer stubbornness.

“I was looking everywhere for you!” Kagami explains. “I was so excited when they said we were gonna make camp together, but I couldn’t find you _anywhere._ But I found you all by myself!”

Tobirama kneels to be at eye-level with the child, to put them on even ground the way he learned when he helped train Senju children on the occasion.

“You were looking?”

“Duh,” Kagami huffs.

A small smile pulls on the edge of his mouth, the way it rarely does. He’s always liked being a teacher, liked being needed and liked sharing knowledge. Children are simple and easy to understand, not confusing and confounding and difficult like adults. More fun, too.

It’s genuinely nice, to have someone seek him out for the sake of him. It’s also good to see Kagami in one piece, not even a scar left behind from his wounds, and cheerful as ever.

“Well, I’m very glad to see you alright, Kagami.”

“Yeah, I’m all better now! Mom says she wants to thank you. She was really happy when I showed up.”

That’s—also surprising. For the enemy to want to thank the enemy is near unheard of.

Strange times he lives in now, he guesses.

“Does she know where you are?”

“I dunno, maybe.”

Oh, dear. “It’s not very nice to worry your mother like that, running off without telling her. I’m very grateful to see you, but you should head back, Kagami.”

“But I miss you, sensei! I want to try out new jutsu and learn more plant stuff even if it’s not as cool,” Kagami whines slightly. “I want you to teach me!”

“Peace is still so new, Kagami,” Tobirama explains. “If everything goes well, I might be able to see you again, but I can’t promise I can teach you if your clan does not allow me to do so.”

“But I want to. Izuna- _sensei,”_ Kagami complains as if the words taste like black licorice. “Says I shouldn’t trust you and that it’s no good to be your friend but I want to be!”

Tobirama wants to respond, to say that a child does not need to defend him from perceived ‘bullies,’ but Kagami is on a roll. Kagami huffs, cheeks puffed out. “Everyone calls you mean and evil and awful names but I know you aren’t, Tobi-sensei.”

“Kagami, you need to understand something,” Tobirama explains gently. “Sometimes during war, good people do bad things, for the right or wrong reasons. You should not blame them for their beliefs, because they are often based on truth. War is a different world.”

Kagami blinks up at him. That might have been too complex for him. “Name-calling is hardly the worst I’ve dealt with. I have done my share, too. I can tolerate it. Peace has only just begun, yes?”

“Well, I don’t want them to do that.”

“It’s alright. Both Uchiha and Senju have done countless bad things to one another. It’s expected.”

Of course, he doesn’t want to scare the child off. Kagami is a kind child, but Tobirama has a policy to always be transparent. There will be no sugar-coating with his words—children are more perceptive than most people think and treating them like they’re stupid will only alienate them.

Preparing them for the world ahead, dark and grueling as it may be, is the only way to ensure their survival.

With peace on the rise, that may change. But it’s good habit to never forget the past, lest history repeat itself.

“I know…” Kagami mutters, then brightens. “Things can change, though! We’re changing it! Right?”

Oh, the boundless optimism of a child who hasn’t seen the gore of war. Tobirama, against his better judgement and the potential outcry if this was witnessed, ruffles the boy’s hair.

No matter how aggravating the peace talks make him or how difficult compromise is, it will all be worth it if it will protect this child’s dreams.

“Yes,” Tobirama promises. “Yes, I hope we are.”

 _“So,_ that means you can come see me and my friends—!”

“Kagami!” A shrill voice cries out. “Where have you _been?”_

Once again, Tobirama forgot to channel chakra into sensing, so focused on the discussion he was. Once is an embarrassing accident. Twice is a stain upon his pride. And all in one day! Truly mortifying.

Even worse, it’s the second-worst person he would like to see.

Izuna turns around the corner and immediately puffs up like a wet cat at the sight of him. There must have been a break in the meeting. “What the hell are _you_ doing here? Get away from him!”

“Izuna look!” Kagami says, tugging on Tobirama’s sleeve. “I found sensei!”

There’s a light of madness in his eyes that Izuna is trying desperately to calm down for the sake of a child and his blood pressure. “Kagami, how many times do we have to explain that that—” Izuna thinks to settle on an appropriate kid-friendly word to describe his presence. “— _weirdo_ is not anything.”

“He’s not! He’s not mean and not dangerous and not weird, he’s fine and I like him so stop it.”

“This is the stupidest month of my entire life,” Izuna despairs.

“Madara-sama says I can see him whenever I want once you guys finish all your boring grown-up stuff,” Kagami says smugly, which, is news to Tobirama but apparently old news to Izuna.

 _“Madara_ can say whatever damn well he pleases! That doesn’t mean—"

“Language,” Tobirama says mildly just to see Kagami giggle. Izuna’s face flushes red with anger.

Izuna spins to him, battle fury in his eyes, though Tobirama doesn’t feel tensed like he usually does when faced with his rival’s wrath. Maybe it’s surety in the peace. He wouldn’t do something rash with a child in the way, no matter how temperament he is.

“You absolute homewrecker. You’re ruining _everything,_ I don’t know what you did but you’re making the world go insane and I can’t take it anymore. The kids. My brother! _Your_ brother! All crazy!”

 _You and me both,_ Tobirama wonders.

“There’s kids practicing water release in the courtyard. They won’t shut up about—all this! And my brother, my absolute dumbass of a brother—” Izuna rants. “Poisoned! By _you!_ Whatever you did!”

Tobirama opens a palm, feeling argumentative. Just because he’s used to name-calling doesn’t mean he has to take it. “How could I have done anything to a master of genjutsu?”

“It’s worse than genjutsu. So, _so_ much worse,” Izuna complains with heavy disgust. “He’s got all these… _ideas.”_

“Upset because you don’t have any, _Izuna?”_

Izuna actually gags a little bit at the use of his full name on Tobirama’s tongue. So dramatic.

Kagami tugs harder. “Susumu says she wants to show you her water stuff when you see her,” he says excitedly. “I tried too but I’m not very good at it but that’s okay because you can teach me fire, right, because you’re really smart!”

“I’m right here!” Izuna yells out.

“I’m not as skilled with my fire techniques, unfortunately, though I do know other skills that may assist with that,” Tobirama says, ignoring Izuna. “Have you been taught tree walking?”

“Yes! Izuna-sensei did!”

“That’s good. Keep working on that and soon you will be ready for more.”

“Like what?”

“Well, as a secret…” Tobirama whispers just to piss the raging Uchiha in front of them off. “Recall how I made two of myself when I first met you?”

Kagami gasps excitedly then nods. “Awesome.”

Seemingly realizing his freaking out will not do much, Izuna visibly calms and holds on to his temperament by a shaky thread. “Okay, whatever, let’s just—Kagami, your mom’s looking for you. Says she got cherry tarts.”

“Oh! I gotta get that! I’ll see you around, Tobi-sensei,” Kagami says, then squints his eyes really harshly at the both of them. “I _better.”_

Then he’s off, running at top speed through the alley. Leaving the two bitter enemies to continue their glare-off.

“Would have never left otherwise,” Izuna mutters to himself. “No respect around here anymore. Wonder _why.”_ A glare directed at him.

Now Izuna’s moody. That won’t do much for peace talks. If meetings have to be delayed due to more extended ribbing, Tobirama might start ripping out hairs.

“You’re teaching them well. His chakra is more controlled than last I saw of him,” Tobirama offers.

Glancing over, Izuna spits. “Shut that stupid sensing off, Senju, and don’t mock me.”

No one can take his words at face value, courtesy of their shared paranoia. “I am not. But take it as you will.”

Suspiciousness doesn’t leave, but Izuna at least calms enough to take a deep breath. “Whatever. Don’t even know why my brother fancies you. I hate you and I hate the world,” Izuna spits before storming off.

Tobirama blinks, the only outward show of emotion he shows at that. Fancies? As in…favor?

Hm. Maybe this is related to the ‘ideas’ complaint, and the reason Madara is so interested in his opinion as of late when before he would have never seen him behind his brother.

Perhaps his infrastructure plans and constitution development have truly been impactful. That would be nice—then this whole insanity could be over quicker, and he can get back to his true work instead of arguing.

And maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to teach again.


	3. The Extorted Favor

One of the worst parts about the newly constructed Konoha is the _paperwork._

It’s his fault, partially. He likes to stay organized and so he has made the demands to be organized stricter. City blocks need to make sense, tax documents must be fair, hospital policies are required to run smoothly. Paperwork helps with that.

Administrative responsibilities are one of his specialties, always have been, but it’s truly astounding how much the paperwork has piled up over the past few months. Mostly on his desk.

His brother is always so busy building homes or on diplomatic relations that most of the actual work to make it all run smooth falls on his shoulders. If he didn’t love his brother so much, he might be annoyed, but he does and he doesn’t mind that much.

This comes with its own set of consequences, however.

He’s ashamed to admit that he has… _misplaced_ a few of his scrolls as of late. Exhaustion and overwork would do that to you, even one as used to it as him. Thank the heavens he’s not on a battlefield any longer or he would be even more furious at himself for slipping.

As it is, he can currently be found with most of his head underneath a cabinet in the lounge, looking under the thin crack for the damned Nara compromise. One of the most _essential_ documents of the village’s life if they want to settle border disputes and create a unified land.

“Damned documents, damned treaties, damned _mess,”_ Tobirama mutters to himself as he searches.

Being organized is such a difficult task when every time he tries to fix it, more messes crop up. _Troublesome_ , as his troublesome clan of the day likes to say.

This on top of his poor sleep schedule on top of the ongoing “Madara Problem” is creating just the most tremendous headaches for him and completely rotting his mood.

 _The Madara Problem…_ Tobirama ponders as he always does—with venom. He’d consider what “the problem” has done so far, but no, not now, not if he doesn’t want to lose control of his already fragile temper.

He hasn’t seen much of Madara as of late, which he’s grateful for. No more mind tricks, not in such a crucial development state.

By “as of late” he means for more than two days, which is an achievement in of itself.

As if hearing this, his sensing detects a distinct fire presence sauntering up to the door. _Joy._

“Having trouble, Tobirama?”

Tobirama doesn’t stop his search, though he made sure to stand before Madara walked in. He refuses to look undignified in front of the instigator. “A mild one. Much worse now that you’ve arrived.”

“Ha, ha,” Madara says drily. “You seem like you’re looking for something.”

“…Yes. I seem to have misplaced a certain document of mine.”

“Oh? Am I hearing this right? Did the great Tobirama Senju actually _lose_ something for once? And is _admitting_ it?” Madara asks gleefully.

Tobirama sighs. He truly despises when Madara ‘graces’ him with his presence. “Unless you have something helpful to say, I recommend stepping down now. My mood is foul enough without your obnoxious picking—”

He holds his hands up. “Okay, no need to be so touchy. I’m joking. What did you lose?”

“The Nara scroll. It was on my desk this morning, right in the center, yet vanished after I returned from repairing the pipelines in district nine,” Tobirama explains. He’s finding more lost pens than important documents in the corners of his office.

“…You’re a plumber, too?”

“As one of the primary water users in this village capable of rerouting all the systems to allow the engineers to fix the problem, in a way I am.”

Madara mumbles something under his breath that sounds like _‘all of them…’_ Tobirama ignores it. It didn’t sound like an insult, maybe even a bit impressed oddly enough, but he refuses to be distracted.

“That is besides the point. This document needs to be found now. There are meetings to attend, roads to create, protective measures to plan, and if you lot would use my filing system then perhaps this wouldn’t happen!”

“If it was on _your_ desk, then don’t blame us for your mistake!”

Gritting his teeth, Tobirama takes a deep breath. “…Apologies. I did not mean to lash out at you. Today has been…hectic to say the least.”

Madara squints at him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a workaholic?”

Sighing, Tobirama brushes back his hair, slightly oily from unwash. He hasn’t had a chance to go home in a few days. “Often.”

“I suppose your lazy trunk of a brother doesn’t help with that either,” Madara mutters, then shakes his head. “It wouldn’t happen to be, say, yay long nay wide, stamped with the symbol of a deer and stained with a possible drool spot near the top?”

Tobirama stops his dusting of the top cabinets to slowly fall on flat feet. “Where did you put it, Uchiha.”

With a far-too-long hum, Madara presses a finger to his chin. “Hm, I might have seen it somewhere. Can’t remember.”

“That document is a deciding factor for this village, for peace _you_ began! I don’t have time for your _games!”_ Tobirama all but hisses.

Unphased, the man in front of him only smirks in the face of his glare that would freeze a weaker foe. “My memory is quite poor. It’s all so fuzzy.”

“You can either tell me now or I can _make_ you tell me.”

Did he just see Madara shiver faintly? What was that? The smirk never vanishes though and his words are as cryptic as ever. “If you want to rattle my brains around for the answer, you might find me skulking around some trees. In a wide clearing. Possibly named ‘Training Ground Six.’”

Tobirama doesn’t chase Madara down like a madman, of course. It’s more akin to a predator stalking prey. Surety in his step that he will catch him and _thrash him_ for the answer.

On the other hand, Madara, the lout, seems delighted at this turn of events, despite knowing that there is no corner of this land and the next one over he could hide that Tobirama would not be able to find him in.

(Passersby’s who happen upon the scene don’t stick around for long. The fierce Uchiha clan head being chased by the cold demon of the Senju? In broad daylight? With jeering and snarls thrown in there respectively?

Backing away slowly is the only option. Yes, back away…)

“You’re pretty good at this so far,” Madara huffs. Tobirama is pleased to note he’s slightly out of breath; he never left his heels through the entire stalk to Training Ground Six.

“Tracking is one of my specialties. As well as information extraction.”

“I can see that. You’re really quite talented.”

Tobirama narrows his eyes. “Mocking me is not helping your cause, Uchiha.”

“The day you actually accept compliments will be the day you become unbearable, I swear,” Madara huffs, whatever that means.

More inane comments, more asinine mind games—perhaps Tobirama should change his opinion of the fire user. He’s quite the tricky man, even if his attempts to throw Tobirama off have only been successful half the time. He previously thought him incapable of being cunning, and yet, here he is. Tobirama’s never been more caught off balance then he is in this man’s presence.

And it’s not even evening yet. There’s no time for this, not now.

“Though you’ll have to prove it on the last point, Tobirama. So what, you chase me around for a bit and expect me to give up? Real show of power ther—"

Although Tobirama prefers to keep his temper in check, it has been so severely tested on far too few hours of sleep that he—snaps, just slightly.

When you spend most of your childhood years born into battle and raised by books, it means one can get very, very creative with their techniques. Add that with a diverse knowledge of some truly nasty Uzumaki seals courtesy of one brother’s crafty wife…

Some of the braver onlookers near the clearing describe the spectacle as “magnificent,” “mesmerizing,” and “overkill" from both sides.

In cruder terms, it was a “holy shit” sort of general reaction amongst the crowd.

Yet the real star of it all—that even when bombarded with water shurikens, bullets, electric explosions, mud, paper bombs, razor edges, superhot steam, violent threats, and blunt force weaponry—all the onlookers say that Madara has never looked happier in his life.

* * *

It lasts for an entire hour. By the time it ends, the crowd barely has enough trees to hide behind. The air smells like fried seafood and excessive humidity, and there’s not a single spot on his body that isn’t either bruised or charred.

Exhaling heavily, flat on his back in his own mud pile, Tobirama glares at the sun and wonders what went wrong.

For as overconfident and full of himself as he is, Madara stepped up this time. If Tobirama was at full power, he may have gotten close, but as it was Tobirama lost.

He’s fast. Nearly as fast as himself, and with a quick start fire to boot. His kicks were otherworldly. There was a never a dull moment in that battle, not with the Sharingan and Madara’s impressive repository of techniques. Nothing was used twice and no moves were wasted.

He hasn’t been pushed to his limits like that in quite a long time. It’s obnoxious. It’s humiliating.

It was…almost fun. If painful.

There’s the wet slap of sandals and heavy groaning from somewhere to his left. _But he didn’t lose easily,_ he thinks smugly.

Water drips from Madara ridiculous mane as he hovers above him, blocking out the sun. Cuts litter his body at every angle in the most uncomfortable of spots. “You…yield?”

“No. But I am not moving from this spot.”

“Ha. I win.” With a great flop, Madara falls beside him in the churned-up mud. “Urgh. I feel like my skin is trying to melt off of me,” he complains.

Tobirama sits up and peels off the octopus wrapped around his arm. He doesn’t even know where it came from—his summoning contracts most certainly did not include sea creatures. “Tell that to my ribs and see if they have any sympathy.”

“Your brother will fuss enough for the both of us I’m sure.”

“Speaking of…if you truly wanted a spar, why did you not just ask him instead of me?”

Tobirama is good, sure, but nothing compared to his older brother. ‘God of Shinobi’ is not a light title. Why him, of all people, did Madara choose to meet today? Hashirama wouldn’t say no to abandoning his work duties for a few hours.

“I wanted a _real_ fight, and someone new I’m not used to pummeling or someone who thinks growing roots under my feet will work every time.”

“…I suppose,” Tobirama concedes. “And what made you think that I would be a good replacement?”

Madara actually looks over, something deep in his gaze. “You’re not a ‘replacement,’ shut up about that. You’re smart and you know it, and you’re _strong as hell._ I see you and—I just wanted to find out. Stop asking so many questions and just enjoy the moment, ass!”

Tobirama snorts, falling back down. The octopus makes a break for the lake he had just made in the remains of Training Ground Six.

The day is actually quite peaceful. He’s sore enough to not want to move for the next few hours, and this spot right here staring up at the clouds is just the right place to relax. Even more so that Madara has stopped talking for once in his life.

He hasn’t watched clouds since he was a kid. The window in his office only lets in light in the morning before it travels too high, so he hasn’t seen much of that either.

“What brought this on?” Tobirama asks. “Just to be a bother?”

“Hm?” Madara hums. “Oh. You’ve been cooped up in that office for far too long and I needed a sparring partner.”

“You could have asked. Like a normal person.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Ah, thinking about the office…reminds him of how much work is yet to be done. He should do that. Now. Immediately. He’s wasted enough time.

It still takes him about ten minutes to work up the energy to sit up.

Most of the crowd has dispersed but he does want to leave soon before any others show up. Such as, but not limited to, overbearing big brothers and nosey gossipmonger cousins.

Glancing down, Tobirama offers a hand to Madara dozing off.

Madara sees it and groans. “Not yet…”

“We can’t all lounge around like the Nara’s do. Come.”

Lazily, Madara takes the hand. It’s warm. “Nara this, Nara that. I’m starting to think you don’t like hanging out with me, Tobirama.”

“Hanging…out?” Tobirama wonders. Is that what they’re doing?

Well, it was partially a productive use of their time. Tobirama feels quite relaxed instead of annoyed now. Plus, he thought of some interesting experiments for a few new jutsus to hopefully use on Madara next time. To wipe that smug look off his face.

But for now, paperwork.

 _(Paperwork,_ his inner Hashirama voice whines. Tobirama viciously crushes it like a bug.)

“Now that you are sufficiently ‘thrashed,’ will you please inform me of where you stashed that infernal scroll.”

Madara snickers heartily like a child. “Thrashed, ha! Your words, not mine! That’s—” then he yelps as Tobirama presses a nail into a bruise on his wrist. “Alright, _alright,_ fine. Because I’m nice, I’ll return the scroll…if you go home and get some rest.”

Tobirama nearly tears up the last of the grass in the clearing as he leans in with ice in his gaze. “What? There is too much to do. Stop speaking nonsense!”

“I can handle _one day of work,_ Tobirama,” Madara argues. “You’re more likely to mess up the oh-so-important document instead of actually completing it.”

…There is truth in that. It has happened before. Not often, but one too many times.

Just this once, Tobirama relents. He’s too tired to fight. The Uchiha likely doesn’t know about the paperwork at his house anyways. He can take a quick nap, then spend the rest of the evening working down that pile to avoid being chewed out by the tower’s residents for coming in on mandated rest leave.

“…Very well. Though you must rest, as well."

Madara smiles, nothing hidden underneath. Just a small, true, genuine grin. "Deal."

"But if I see that document unfinished when I return, or if there’s one mistake—I will fix it, then met you back here. And I won’t lose.”

“Promises, promises,” Madara waves off. “And as for my reward for winning the spar, meet me for dinner tonight at the bar near the southern edge of the river.”

A strange request. Asking for a spar then bothering to ask for more time around him?

Maybe this is a trick. Madara adores tormenting him it seems. And yet…

“The one with grilled mackerel?”

“Yes, and those fancy dango sticks. Though you would probably be more tempted by the steamed broccoli, health nut.”

Tobirama has a weakness for any fish grilled at that bar. Even if he’s stood up, he will be taking a plate of that to go.

“That is…acceptable.”

Madara’s grin, if possible, gets even wider. “See you at sundown, Tobirama.” He starts to walk off but pauses with a groan. A cut or two starts to bleed slightly. Not much, but enough to be bothersome.

Tobirama sighs. “You fool.” With a bit of healing chakra, he presses it into the Uchiha’s wounds, sealing the superficial ones over.

“Oi! Quit wasting your chakra, idiot!”

“I can spare enough to at least stop the bleeding—”

“No, get off! Moron,” Madara grumbles. He rubs at his arm, looking surprised at the healed cuts as if he hasn’t seen it before. “You really need to teach me this one day. I never managed to figure out how to do it right.”

“It takes control and patience, like I’ve said. You have power and grace but little finesse—your chakra is very loud, and very hot.”

“Hot, you say?” Madara leers, and Tobirama raps his knuckles as he lets go. More heckling is not appreciated right now.

There’s a moment of silence as they reevaluate their positions.

“This is familiar, isn’t it?” Madara says, almost wistfully as if him writhing and bleeding out on the dirt was a pleasant memory.

“I would say that it is, except for the fact that I was not to speak of that again. Both of us were, in fact, and yet here we are.”

“How strange. My memory simply isn’t that good anymore.”

_Cheeky scoundrel._

“Awfully hypocritical of—"

“What is going on here?” A distinct voice wails.

Madara glances back and pales at the sight of his esteemed co-leader, Hashirama, running full tilt toward the training grounds, armed with either a lecture, a healing kit, or a combination of both.

“Tobirama—” he hisses, then pauses in horror.

Tobirama smirks, hand pointed in a seal. “I sensed him a mile away. Good luck, Madara.”

And there he leaves Madara to the mercy of his best friend.

He appears his bedroom just in time for him to kick off his shoes before passing out from mild chakra exhaustion and various levels of pain.

It’s satisfying to know that trick will never stop working on Madara. Even when he loses, he’s able to get his wins from somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got really sick, will reply to comments soon! thank you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have most of this written, but am stuck at a few parts so I'm taking my time. Unlike Madara here, who has talked with Tobirama one time (1) in an almost-friendly way and decided ah yes, I like This one :)
> 
> This fic is about the second stage of enemies to friends (to possible lovers): getting past the insurmountable "idiot" part of it. Giving Madara some time to shine, from the opposite perspective!
> 
> You guys are the sweetest bunch. Thank you for everything! I write whenever the mood strikes me, but you all were such an inspiration. I appreciate it <3


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